


Gone

by Remarque



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remarque/pseuds/Remarque
Summary: A chapter 14 retype with some added dialog with Din, Boba and Fennec (because let's be real, we all wanted more). Minor assumptions made and some headcanon backstory about the Crest (RIP) and some headcanon stuff with Boba.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 79





	Gone

Gone.  
All in one single moment, everything in his life had vanished.  
Din stood, frozen to the dusty ground as trails of smoke wafted high into the air. He didn’t even get to watch it burn, running up to try and save the kid.  
Failing at that as well.  
He hears the subtle shift of the two behind him and the air has seemingly been sucked out of his helmet, leaving him breathless.  
Fennec starts to speak up but a shift tells him that the other Mandalorian has quieted her.

“Go take a look. We shall wait.” The gruff voice of Boba pierces into his skull, a tone that is much too empathetic than anything he’s used to.

He doesn’t even feel his feet carry him down to the wreckage. With each step his disbelief warps from fear to anger to shock and to a million other feelings he rarely lets himself experience. The smoke clogs the air as he reaches the ashes of his ship.  
His home.  
His second home.  
He can’t help as he thinks back to how he got it. Gaining the pooled funds of his own bounties, traveling and working with others, and the sharings of the covert. Also his home.  
Also gone.  
The armorer had arranged the money for him, knowing that with greater freedom to do his work meant more wealth for the tribe. So much of his life was in the crest. Worked into the sparking wiring, the moaning landing gear, the intermittent heat and the frigid carbonite freezers.  
His rifle.  
His fingers flex as he kicks at charred parts. Picking one up and tossing it away in disgust, in sinking dread of what the future might hold, what he will have to do to pick up the shattered remains of his now completely solitary life.

“That’s the look of a man who has lost everything.” Boba murmurs to Fennec, looking back and forth.

“It’s pathetic” she says, not in judgement but in sympathy. He was so different on Tattoine. Sure of himself and yet still tired. “We can’t leave him here like this.”

Boba looked over to her. “I am glad that we’re on the same page”.

Fennec shifted uneasily. “I’m not sure how many pages though.” She sighs “You saw what was up there. Are you sure you want to be involved with that?”

Boba looks back to the Mandalorian wandering through the wreckage.

“I may not be him… but I am a man of my word. And I have my own sins to pay for. I owe him for the return of this” he pats the helmet at his side “and I know the feeling of a man lost without hope. Without family. I have some duty to him, even if it is to get him elsewhere… but I’m not opposed to taking a few imperials out with me on the way”. He quirks a brow at her “will you join?”

Fennec blows out a short breath and rolls her eyes.

“You’re stuck with me, Fett. Even if that sarlacc digested a few of your brain cells with it.”

She shakes her head and the man seems impassive, despite a smirk tugging at the corners of his eyes until they rest on the armored man again. Something inside him feels the pain of losing his father all over again and he’s moved to help this brother, even if they hadn’t sworn the same creed.

A glimmer catches Din’s eye through the helmets shield and he digs his fingers into the ashen dust, retrieving the silver ball handle of the lever. That object pierces him harder than the mudhorn. Harder than any blaster bolt he’s taken or jab to the body. His resolve settles into the pit of his stomach. He will not let this be the way he goes out. He has sworn everything he is to this child that has upended his life. If he has nothing left, he has his creed in whatever form that truly is. He will uphold it for himself, and for the safety of the child. That special kid.

His special kid.

He tucks the ball into the pouch at his side. His resolve and promised tucked safely away. He can keep that safe at least. He looks around again at the smoldering ashes. If that could survive, there was one other thing that should be around…

He nearly steps on it, brushing the dust aside with a foot, and then with a hand. Fingers wrapping around the hot Beskar steel. His weapons were gone, the ones he loved and were so familiar with. He almost wished this would have been taken from him and his rifle returned safely to his back. But he’s not one to shy away from a new form of combat, so he takes it and glances back up, expecting the unlikely pair to be gone, leaving him here to his fate.

To his surprise, they stand at the top of the hill, watching and waiting.

Fennec looks antsy, glancing around as he starts walking towards them. He studies the so called Mandalorian in front of him as he approaches. He has a steady and hard gaze that would cut through Din if he didn’t also have the same under the helmet.

“This is all that survived” The younger man says, drawing on his strength to keep his voice steady.

“Beskar?” Boba asks and Din can all but nod, thinking of Ahsoka. He should have made her take the kid. The intruding thought is broken, however.

“I want to take a look at something” he says evenly, not accusingly after Din’s earlier display of hostility towards the man.

“My chain code has been encoded in this armor for twenty-five years” he nods as Din peers at the activated hologram on his bracer. Mando’a. Damn Din mutters under his breath. He reads it easily, as Boba speak on.

“See this is me. Boba Fett. This is my father, Jango Fett.”

“Your father was a foundling” Din almost sighs.

For a second time he has jumped the gun, judging others in armor. When had he become the beskar police, he had wondered. He thought he knew what it was to be a Mandalorian. An uncomfortable realization he had shoved out of his mind for many rotations now clawed at him once again, burying its teeth into his neck. He knew nothing.

“He even fought in the Mandalorian Civil Wars”.

He knew nothing.

“Then that armor belongs to you”. He concedes easily. Almost wanting to be free of the burden anyway.

“I appreciate its return” Boba nods to him in thanks.

“Then our deal is complete” Din sighs, already trying to think of ways to get off this wretched rock. Perhaps they’d be kind enough to lend him a lift.

“Not quite.” Boba looks down and Din can’t help but cock his head. “How so?”

Boba glances at Fennec. “ We agreed in exchange for the return of my armor we will ensure the safety of the child.

Dins voice cracks as he speaks the words, not wanting to acknowledge his failure in front of these strangers. “The child is gone”

“Until he is returned to you safely, we are in your debt.”

Din looks over and Fennec nods with determination.

“I can’t ask this of you.” Din shakes his head. “We have been hunted by these imps across countless systems. They’re ruthless. I am willing to give my life to protect him. I can’t ask you to do the same for a child you know nothing of.”

“We don’t do this for the child.” Boba says evenly. “We do it to keep our word. Isn’t this the way?” He quips.

He may not have been involved in Mandalorian society, but he’s not oblivious to it. He knows what it means to keep ones word. Flashes of his father telling him stories of the code, of the Resol’nare burst through his mind.

Din can only stare as Boba continues. “I have no clan. I have no children. There is no Mand’alore. I have no-one to even speak the language with. All I have is my armor, my ijaat.. and the memory of my Buir. I swear no allegiances, but… I will help a brother uphold his.

“Vor Ente, Vod.” Din mumbles out, barely loud enough to hear out of the vocoder and Boba manages the barest of smiles.

“Let us get off of this waste of space. Tell us where you need to go. We will take you.”

Din only thinks for a moment, plans formulating in his head with a glimmer of hope igniting beneath his beskar.

“Nevarro…”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing i've gotten the courage to write up for Mando because I just wanted to explore a little bit of chatter between him and Boba, what Boba is feeling watching him in the scene which is very plainly written on his face, and what Din is going through. Don't skewer me please, I made up a few things I felt like weren't completely out of the realm of possibility. I am also a first class passenger on the "Din can speak Mando'a" train (choo choo). Fight me. He saw that Jango was a foundling he can at least read it.  
> Comments are welcome but please be kind- I don't write very much.  
> Also I did this in like an hour my grammar sucks i'm old give me a break.
> 
> Mando'a Translations (i hope)  
> Ijaat- Honor  
> Vor Ente, Vod - Thank you, brother.


End file.
